Listening to the radio yesterday, I heard Cat Stevens' Wild World from the '70s, and I thought that if I had only my smile, it would be much harder to be brave. But as it is, when I'm fully myself, I know that I have more tools and weapons at my disposal than a mere smile, although a smile can be more helpful than many people know. 

Being brave doesn't mean I'm not afraid. Fear rises in me at times just like it does in most creatures. (Embracing uncertainty doesn't always come easily.) I find my courage in spite of my fear... because of it. Bravery is my rebellion against being afraid. Living in my own way, making decisions based on love, courting new experiences and exhilarations... this is the best revenge, the real victory over fear.

Writing this has helped me make a firm decision to go flying with a friend's husband. The last time I saw them, I promised that I would go with him the next time I was there, but I was beginning to quaver on my promise. Now, I'm going flying! Being brave feels so good. I highly recommend it.

Uh oh. No blog posts in December. Sorry about that. And here it is the middle of January. Yikes!

The Universe or God certainly has a sense of humor. If you believe that everything happens for a reason, which I do, and that we often can't discern what that reason might be, and I often can't, then you'll appreciate this ramble. 

Clearly, I need to learn that being is spirit rather than form, and the longer I take to learn this lesson, the more insistent God or the Universe becomes. I'm being dense and stubborn, and it's getting a little scary.

Last year, I'd had a couple of haircuts I didn't like from my longtime and expensive downtown stylist, so I decided to find someone new in my neighborhood. Did I go to my friends' local hair cutters? Oh, no... why would I do anything that clever?

I went online to Yelp and found a husband and wife team just over and down the hill in the Inner Sunset. Close by, inexpensive, good reviews... what could go wrong?

Making an appointment was easy, and I even found parking right in front -- I was meant to go there! The fellow had a heavy accent, but we seemed to understand each other, and I had brought a couple of photos of the hair style I wanted, and he liked one of them, so I put the fate of my hair in his seemingly capable hands.

We talked about his experience as a hair stylist and his native country, and I wasn't paying much attention to how much hair he was cutting... until it was too late. How can I describe this haircut without a photo? Japanese rock star? Nazi collaborator punished by villagers after the war? Can you see it now? Does it sound like me? No. Really?

I was in shock, so I paid him and left. Went to the mall and in desperation bought hair extensions -- in retrospect, the kind I imagine meth heads might wear -- and just made it look worse. Then I went home and Skyped my best friend and showed her what happened, contrasting the desired hairstyle photo with the actual style, with and without the extensions, and we laughed so hard we almost peed our pants. 

I decided it was worth it for all the laughs and the realization that I'm still me even if I have a ridiculous haircut. 

Fast forward a few months, I've forgotten that benign lesson about vanity. And I have to have an outpatient surgery to correct an idiotic decision made in my youth. The result is not aesthetically pleasing, and I'm momentarily devastated. Then, I remember... oh yeah, I'm still me even if... right. 

Being is spirit not form. Form is just a temporary manifestation of our spirit in the physical world. We are spirits in eternity, the Us that doesn't change. Interestingly, when we accept this and let go of ego, things tend to work out just fine after all.

Namaste.

I'm not sure one blog post a month actually constitutes blogging, but that's about as good as it's going to get right now. Facebook is great for free association; blogging is supposed to be more structured, I guess. 

This transition — in my life, not between paragraphs — is emotional, tumultuous, intellectual, challenging, and necessary. I can't imagine anyone would ever choose to change her life so dramatically if the survival of her soul didn't depend on it.

A warm, sunny week at a beautiful, isolated resort near Cabo San Lucas in Baja California del Sur, Mexico, with my best friend, was healing. If you're ready for a couple of transformative books, I highly recommend A New Earth by Eckhart Tolle and The Artist's Way by Julia Cameron, in that order. And if you're on an emotional roller coaster, keep a journal. Dear Diary... you remember how to do it. No one ever has to see what you write — you don't even have to reread it — heck, burn it! But the act of writing down your feelings, observations — whatever comes out, clarifies and distills the contents of your heart and mind. Very helpful. Just sayin'.

Now I'm back in my so-called real life, wading through mud, but making progress nonetheless. Living with love... that's all I can do.

How things can change in just a few weeks...

Weebly has overcome its problems with support and I was able to publish this site after many weeks of waiting. I have a lot of work to do on my various long-languishing writing projects, but I feel renewed; my energy, creative force, and muses have come back to me. I am so thankful.

I've also realized that Facebook makes it possible to reconnect with kindred spirits, both long-lost and newly discovered, and express oneself in a stream of consciousness that, while self-indulgent to be sure, is a lot less expensive and, I imagine, much more interactive than psychotherapy. It's fascinating to see which comments, quotes, songs, articles - whatever interests me - is, in turn, interesting to which friends, and to find out what they are doing, thinking, feeling, appreciating. That interaction has woken me up from a long dull sleep, and I'm so grateful.

I am embarking on an unexpected, exhilarating, and, yes, terrifying adventure. I just hope my inspiration and courage can withstand the lures of familiarity and comfort. I know my loved ones will be with me wherever I may go. I am undeservedly blessed with their presence in my life. And when I am old, I don't want to remember my wonderful daydreams; I want to tell stories about what I did, win or lose, to make them come true.

I have mixed feelings about creating a website, blogging, and social networking. I guess it's important to develop an online presence and to network digitally these days, but it feels very exposed to me and a little presumptuous — like writing a memoir when you're 30. Then again, I doubt very many people will see any of this anyway, so what the heck. 

The weather here in San Francisco, especially the fog in summer and the rain from November through April, makes it easy to stay inside and write. Not that writing is easy, although the hardest part is making myself sit down long enough to do it. The inspiration usually comes. Sometimes it even feels like it's flowing through me and nothing exists beyond the ideas and the words. That's an amazing state of mind. I'm grateful for ever experiencing it.

I don't enjoy looking at a computer screen — it makes me feel ill after a while — so I may just have to write longhand now that I'm focusing on writing again. Does that make me pseudo-Amish? There are worse things to be. The Amish are the people who actively practice forgiveness -- remember how they forgave the man who shot and killed several of their children at school a few years ago? And how they comforted his family? They also believe that people with disabilities are born to teach us how to love. That is certainly true for my family.